John Frum The Reluctant Messiah

Marco's Message

John held out his coconut shell, examining it. "What's in this?" he asked.

"It's made from roots of the Kava plant," Marco explained, "more accurately, piper methysticum."

"Piper metha what? Can't be all bad if it starts with meth," John kidded him.

"Not quite the same...Several cultures use this in their rituals but this version of it? It's found nowhere else in the world." Marco was half contemplating, " Maybe it's because they actually chew the roots into paste balls and spit it into-"

"Oh my Ga... Whoa, whoa, whoa! Stop!" John pleaded. He physically shuddered, closing his eyes as to block out any and all remnants of that part of the conversation. Suddenly confused, John asked, "Then why do they drink it?"

"Because they can!" Marco was now laughing loudly.

"I mean, what's the significance in this whole ceremony thing other than showing off their bad-ass hip hop skills?" A group of natives gyrated past them, "and their incredibly poor fashion sense."

"It was considered the devil's brew in the days of colonization. Missionaries hated it and tried to ban it," Marco said. "The locals believe it's a way to achieve Koontal."

"Koontal...what's that?" asked John.

"Loosely interpreted? Koontal. It means believing for the supernatural to occur in the physical realm. It's what enables them to sit out on that make-believe airfield night after night after night all these years. They think it'll bring about a quicker return of their Messiah," Marco explained.

"John Frum," added John.

"Ahhh very good! Yeah- so you know that when he returns... so does the stuff."

"Not exactly what you'd expect from such spiritual people," John quipped.

"At least it's honest," Marco pointed out. "The rest of the religious world disguises it by praying for "God's blessings"- Come'on!... that's code for stuff. Why not just pray, Dear God, please give me the 80" QLED Samsung and be done with it?"

"What type of stuff do you think they want?" John asked.

"Well, that's where they're just like us- they don't care- just stuff," a cynical Marco replied. "New stuff. Different stuff. Stuff stuff.

When the allied forces first arrived, it introduced a poison into a pure, untainted society." He was now making his point loudly and emphatically. "It's because of that they'll never achieve Koontal!" No matter how much of this incredible Kava they drink!" he shouted.

With that they "clinked" shells, spilling some. John laughed with his new friend and sat back, content to let Marco continue. "That's why a group of the elders retreated further into the interior. Separated themselves from the tainted ones. And the stuff. And the tourists. And.......this," motioning to the mild chaos about them. "Rumor has it they achieve Koontal all the time." A few of Marco's words had just a smidge of slur attached to them.

"There's others?" John asked. Marco paused and looked around. He took on that sudden drunk-seriousness and leaned in towards John. "Yes," he said, nodding. "And they seem to be far more proficient in Koontal than the rest-without daily doses of this...." he squinted searching for the word, "liquid 'shrooms. I'm thinking it's some sort of genetic disposition at work here but there's no way to prove that. At least not from a senses man's perspective"

"Whoa, dude... English...." John implored him. "Census man or S. E. N. S. E. S. man?"

"Yeah. As in the five SENSES? Basically, all of mankind? If they can't see it, smell it, touch it, taste it, or hear it, it doesn't exist."

"Logical," John flatly stated.

"Precisely! Logic. Mankind's most useful tool that simultaneously blinds him to the profound realities of the sixth sense."

John whispers, "I see dead people." Marco looked confused. "Like ghosts, paranormal shit?" Marco quickly shook his head.

"Naaah, that's just one more distraction to get your eye off the prize."

An inebriated John falls into his best Tonto impression. "Hmmm, what exactly is prize, Kemosabe?"

"Believing."

"Believing" John parroted while nodding in mock seriousness.

While a snickering John at this point had now been rendered incapable of being serious, the Kava had stripped what little humor Marco had left in him and he, on the other hand, was now dead serious and in full-blown pontification mode. Realizing the futility of trying to divert Marco's train of thought, John decided to simply sit back and for the sake of entertainment, watch it all go inevitably off the rails.

"Believing in its purest form - the absence of doubt. Believing for things to occur in your life as the need arises. Believing for things to occur that defy circumstances," each declaration accompanied by an emphatic finger-pointing and each becoming louder than the last.

"The type of believing that pushes the boundaries of reality!" Marco suddenly went silent. He nodded, pointed with his eyes, drawing John's attention back to the circle. The crowd had parted leaving a solitary tribal member standing, facing them with his arms outstretched. No longer raising his voice, Marco finished his sentence.

"The type of believing that pushes the boundaries of reality... into the supernatural."

And with that, the tribesman stood, closed his eyes, and levitated himself a full 5 inches off the ground.